CHAP. III. Guzman relates how his Father makes an acquaintance with a Lady, with the consequences thereof.

Such was the life my father led, when being one day on ’Change among other merchants, he discovered afar off a christening which seemed to belong to persons of distinction; every body hastened to see it pass, especially as it was whispered that it was the child of some person of quality, whose baptism was wished to be as private as possible.

My father followed with the rest to the church, and stationed himself at the font; not so much out of a desire to see the ceremony, as the face of a lady whom an old knight led, and who, as it appeared, was to stand for the infant, with this superannuated cavalier. Both the face and figure of this lady were so admirable, that my father was much struck with her appearance. Although in an undress, he could not but admire her graceful deportment, and, as she chanced to raise her veil for an instant, he beheld a face which completely charmed him: there certainly was not a more lovely woman in Seville. He kept his eye immoveably fixed upon this charmer, who was far from being displeased at observing it; for beautiful women are never vexed at a man’s looking at them with admiration, although he be of the very dregs of the people. She, in her turn, took a very minute survey of the merchant, and not considering him unworthy of a tender look, she bestowed one on him, which had the desired effect so completely, that he scarcely recollected where he was. He was not, however, so entirely lost as to forget to follow his mistress, after the ceremony, to ascertain where she resided, and who she was. He found that she lived with this old knight, and was kept by him in a very expensive style, out of an income that he derived from two or three rich benefices in his possession.

My father was not displeased at this discovery, for he felt assured that such a woman could not live very contentedly with her old companion. With this thought, he contrived all the ways he could to see her again and to speak to her, but in vain; he never met her without her old gallant, who never lost sight of her. But these difficulties only added fuel to his flame, and served but to make him sharper and more eager. At length he was fortunate enough, by dint of presents and promises, to gain over to him a duenna, without whose aid he could never have succeeded; this was apparently a good, religious old woman, who (dissembler as she was) had free admittance into the knight’s house, and was not in the least mistrusted. This hypocrite, a true agent of Satan, excited the lady’s passions by continually speaking of the love and constancy of the Genoese, whose good qualities she did not fail to exaggerate. The lady, who did not possess the disposition of a tigress, listened so far to the old woman’s persuasions that she commissioned her to desire my father not to despair. It is certain, and not to be wondered at, that she was more favourably disposed towards him than towards her old knight, who was very disgusting, much incommoded with the gravel, and oftentimes with the gout; while, on the contrary, the merchant promised to realize her hopes of an active and vigorous young gallant. A woman of experience could not hesitate an instant in her choice. But as she was a prudent woman, who had more regard to her interest than to anything else, she was rather perplexed how to act; for though she was night and day completely beset by her keeper’s jealous fears, so that it was scarcely possible for her to carry on a secret correspondence with the Genoese, yet she was feathering her nest too snugly all this while, through her old man’s kindnesses to her, to think of giving him up so suddenly for a stranger.

Nevertheless, the lovers came to a proper understanding, through the old woman’s mediation; the only difficulty after which was to get an opportunity and place of interview. But nothing is impossible to love. When the parties are agreed mountains even shall be divided to give them way. The lady, who was a woman of some experience in these matters, arranged the following plan. She proposed to the old gentleman to accompany her to pass the day at a house of his at Gelvas. It was the most pleasant time of the year, and he consented, therefore, to the proposal, which was perfectly agreeable to him. It was not the first time that they had made this same trip together, the old gentleman being much attached to that part of the country. Of all parts of Spain, Andalusia is, undoubtedly, the most pleasant, and no part of Andalusia is so attractive as Gelvas and St. Juan d’Alfarache, two adjoining villages, which the famous river Guadalquiver fertilizes with its waters, winding about them in such various meanders, that it appears to quit them with regret. The spot abounds with beautiful gardens, the most delicious fruits and flowers, fountains, grottoes, and cascades. In a word, everything that can flatter the sight, taste, and smell, is here to be met with to admiration.

When the day for setting out on this trip arrived, servants were sent off early in the morning to get everything ready at Gelvas. Some hours after, the knight and his darling started, with the duenna, (who was always of their company, and never at all in the way,) all three on quiet mules, and followed by two footmen. When they had got just within sight of my father’s house, by which they must of necessity pass, the young lady was suddenly taken with so violent a fit of the cholic, that she beseeched the old gentleman, if he did not wish to see her die on the spot, to stop immediately; then slipping gently from the saddle to the ground, as if she was half dead, she requested some rest and refreshment, in a weak voice, saying that she could go no farther. The old man, who from his heart sincerely pitied her, knew not what to say or do; but the duenna, whose cue it was now to speak, represented in a very prudent manner to the lady, that it was by no means proper that she should remain in such a situation on the highway; that if she could not manage to walk, she had better allow herself to be carried to the house which was not far off, and which appeared to belong to some person of distinction, who could not refuse to afford every accommodation to a lady who so much required it. The old gentleman highly approved of the duenna’s advice; and the pretended sick lady said, thereupon, that they should do what they pleased with her, but that as to walking so far, the cruel pains she was suffering rendered it utterly impossible. The two footmen, therefore, carried her, whilst the afflicted old knight walked on before to speak to the people of the house, to entreat them to afford accommodation to his mistress for a few hours.

I have already told you that this house was my father’s. It was left in the care of an old housekeeper, who had ample instructions how to behave to serve him in this instance. As soon as she heard a knocking at the door, she ran to open it, and pretending to be astonished at seeing a stranger, she inquired his business in a trembling voice. “I only desire,” answered the cavalier, “that you will be so kind as to allow a lady, whom I am conducting to Gelvas, and who has been suddenly taken ill at a short distance from hence, to rest herself for a short time in your house, and that you will be kind enough to assist us in the application of something which may relieve her.”—“If that be all,” replied the housekeeper, “you shall have every reason to be satisfied, for you could not have pitched upon a more charitable house.” In the mean time, the sick lady came up to them, carried by her two footmen. “Behold where she approaches,” cried the knight, “suffering grievously with the cholic.”

“Walk in, Sir Knight, with your lady,” said the housekeeper, “you are both most welcome. I only regret that my master is not at home to receive you. He would spare nothing to entertain you as you appear to deserve; but in his absence I will take upon me to perform his part in the best manner I am able.”

She then conducted the lady into a fine chamber, with a noble bed in it, the furniture of which was but half finished, that the old man might have no cause of suspicion. Every thing being in readiness, such as perfumed sheets, soft pillows, and a satin-pinked quilt, the lady was soon put to bed, still complaining of the obstinacy of her disorder. The housekeeper and the duenna, equally disposed to good works, heated some flannels, which, as fast as they were brought to the invalid, she slid down with her foot to the bottom of the bed. Had she not done this, she would, undoubtedly, have been so incommoded that the heat would have given her the vapours. She was obliged also to take a good draught of mulled wine, which she could well have dispensed with; so that to prevent the possibility of any other remedy still more disagreeable, she declared that she felt relieved, and that if she were left alone for a quarter of an hour, she doubted not that she should be, by that time, perfectly well again. The good old man was very glad to find that she felt an inclination to take some rest, which he considered as a certain indication that she was getting better. He left the room, therefore, immediately, not forgetting to lock the door after him, and to desire the servants to make no noise, leaving the duenna only, with the sick lady. He went himself to take a turn in the garden, waiting impatiently for the happy moment when he should be summoned to attend his dear mistress again, quite recovered of her cholic.

I fancy I need not inform you that my father was all this time in the house; and, indeed, if my information has been correct, it was to the interview which on this occasion took place between the lovers that I am indebted for my being.

The sun by this time became rather too powerful in the garden, in spite of the shade of the groves, and the coolness of the fountain. The old knight being now tired, and besides quite uneasy to know how his nymph did, resolved to leave the garden, and returned with a slow pace towards the house. The lady, whom I shall in future call my mother, pretended to be still fast asleep when the old man entered her chamber, and as if the noise that he made in coming in awoke her, she complained that he had not the complaisance even to allow her to rest herself for a quarter of an hour. “A quarter of an hour,” cried he. “I swear by your lovely eyes, my darling, that you have been asleep here for at least two hours.” “No, no,” replied she, “I am convinced it cannot be half an hour, for it seemed to me that I was just dozing off. However it may be,” added she, “I feel that I never had more need of rest than at this moment.” She put on a cheerful countenance, however, and assured the old knight that she felt herself much better; which he was exceedingly glad to hear: and finding that the heat had become so excessive that they could not venture out on their journey again, he proposed to his faithful mistress to pass the remainder of the day where she was, and where they had met with so much more attention than they could have anticipated. She consented, provided that the people of the house would but allow of it; and so the old cavalier asked the housekeeper’s permission, who told him that he was perfectly at liberty to make himself quite at home in that house, and that so far from being displeased, her master would be proud of such a favour. Having then resolved to stay, they dispatched one of their servants to the house at Gelvas, to desire the other servants who were already there, to repair to them with a stock of provisions.

Whilst the knight was issuing these orders, my father stole out of the house, got on horseback, and returned to Seville, merely to shew himself upon ’Change, and to come back, to sleep, as usual, at St. Juan d’Alfarache. The time appeared to pass but slowly to him; but, as he had no reason to complain of his day’s work, he made more than usual haste to set out on his return home again, where he arrived about six o’clock. His old rival hastened out to meet him, apologizing and requesting to be excused for the liberty he had taken. Compliments passed on both sides, but more particularly on that of my father, whose fine speeches and polished manners, though they cost him nothing, entirely won the old man’s heart, insomuch that he himself conducted him to his lady, who had just entered the garden to enjoy the air, the excessive heat having considerably gone off. The merchant saluted her as if she was entirely unknown to him, and she received him with as much dissimulation, as if she had never in her life seen him before.

It not being yet the proper time to walk, the party entered a small arbour, which was the more refreshing as it was situated on the bank of the river. They began to play at primero, and the lady won, my father being too gallant a man not to allow himself to lose in such a case. After the game they took a turn round the walks, which was followed by a good supper, which lasted so long that they no sooner rose from table than they were obliged to return to Seville by water, in a small barge which my father had caused to be set off with green boughs and flowers for that purpose. To complete their entertainment, they heard concerts of music performed by some persons that sung and played on several instruments in a small boat, which immediately followed their’s down the river Guadalquiver. At last, the lady and her old gallant, after having been most agreeably entertained, returned hearty thanks to my father for his handsome reception of them; which had such an effect on the old knight that he thought he never could make sufficient acknowledgments for it; and so great was the friendship he conceived for my father, that I do not think he could have made up his mind to leave him so soon, without the promise of seeing him again the next day.

This friendship was so well managed by the lady and my father that it lasted during the life of the old knight, who, in truth, did not live much longer. He was a worn-out rake, an old sinner, who had given himself up entirely to pleasure, without the least fear of the other world, or regard to what might be said of him in this. I was already four years old when he died; but was not his only heir. The good man had several other children by other mistresses, and we lived in his house like tithe-loaves, every one of a different oven. Perhaps, if the truth was known, he was no more their father than he was mine; but, however that might be, as I was the youngest, and from the tenderness of my age not so well able to help myself as my brothers, I should have come but badly off among them, had I not in my mother a person well able to take my part. In short, she was a woman of Andalusia. She did not wait till the old man was dead to feather her nest; for no sooner was he given over by his physicians, than, having all the keys, and being mistress of the house, she took possession of everything worth carrying away, leaving nothing but rags for his next of kin. Even the very day that he died, his house was laid waste in a deplorable manner; while he was gasping for life he lost even the sheets from his bed; and everything of value was spirited away before the breath was out of his body. Nothing but the four walls were left standing when his kindred came about him, big with expectation. In vain they examined every thing; it was very evident that some one had been there before them, and they found themselves obliged to be at the expence of his funeral for the honor of the family. They behaved, however, as well as they could, without shedding many tears on the occasion; but who ever mourns much for a person that leaves nothing? It is for heirs only who are well paid for it to appear to be afflicted.

The kindred of the deceased had made sure of succeeding to a considerable property. They could not possibly conceive how a man who enjoyed fifteen thousand livres a-year in church revenues could die so miserably poor. They knew that his house had been nobly furnished, and could not doubt that he had been robbed of his effects. In vain did they make every possible inquiry; in vain did they cause monitory letters to be affixed to different church doors. Thieves never refund what they have made off with, though under the dread of being excommunicated. After all, my mother had good reasons for quietly taking possession of the old gentleman’s property; for, a short time prior to his death, when he had occasion to go to his strong box, or to inspect his jewels, or had by chance bought some curious piece of furniture, he would say to my mother: Have but patience, my dearest, this is all for thee. Besides, if she had any scruple on her conscience after this, which she considered as no less than a gift in form, you must needs acknowledge that she well deserved her inheritance, for having contented herself for several years with so disagreeable an old bedfellow; added to which, the divines whom she consulted on the occasion completely acquitted her, with an assurance that she had taken nothing but what was undoubtedly her due.